Saga of the Rapier's Blade III: Final Duel
by Rhys
Summary: The third book in the Saga of the Rapier's Blade! Yes, it IS being CONTINUED! Boba Fett, Xixor, Guri and everyone! Don't believe me? Read it for yourself! Then review! rated for violencewe have Fett, Guri, and Xixor. Surprised? C'mon
1. Now, fourteen years after the events of

**DISCLAIMER:** _Star Wars_ (although I fervently wish otherwise) is not mine. Neither is (although it would be awesome beyond belief) Boba Fett. Nor are any of the other characters in this story, not even the one's I made up. If _Lucasfilm_ wants 'em, they can have 'em, with my blessings and cheers! (Besides, the girl's pretty annoying. At least if you're a bounty hunter.) This book ties in around and between (and upside down and alongside and inside out and counter clockwise and…shutting up) the _Bounty Hunter Wars Trilogy: The Mandalorian Armor_ (excellent book, best of them), _Slave Ship_, and _Hard Merchandise_. However, you'll more than get it even if you haven't read those. And I don't think it gives much if anything away that happened then, so if you plan to read them, this shouldn't spoil it.

_If you have not yet read Book One:_ Points of Dispute_, or Book Two:_ Fencer's Misstep_, I suggest you do so prior to reading this, otherwise it will be exceptionally confusing and likely impossible to understand. You might enjoy it anyway, but I can't promise to explain anything. Not that I did too much of that previously, of course…_

************

STAR WARS   
_The Saga of the Rapier's Blade:   
_"The Final Duel" (book 3)

Chapter I   
_Now, fourteen years after the events of Return of the Jedi…_

Kateel of Kuat fidgeted, chewing on her lip. The baleful glare she turned on the blank comm screen in front of her would have sent her subordinates right back out the door without a word spoken, but the comm did not react. Almost impulsively, Kateel reached forward and flicked it on. She didn't want to think about it any more. Whether this was a bad idea or a good one, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't going to let it eat away at her any longer.

Kateel leaned forward and dialed the number. She waited anxiously, trying to appear perfectly calm, as the invisible signals blinked out through hyperspace and holonet…

………………………

Guri looked up, face impassive. She frowned slightly, staring at the distant computer screen. If she were human, she would have sighed, but such a display of emotion was unnecessary when she was alone. The Human Replica Droid rose smoothly from the nest of wires and circuits she had been entangled in a moment before. While the hideout had been untouched for nearly two decades, and had not deteriorated in the sealed environment, some of it had gone a bit out of date. Once every system had been the best—often better than anything you could find—on the market, but as time had passed improvements had been made that had not been echoed in the secure hideout. And Guri knew that with her opponent, she would need the best if she was going to succeed. And so, her first task had not been to turn everything on, but rather to upgrade them.

But some of the sensors were on. It simply would not do to sit here blind. And now one of them was blinking an alert. Guri strode across the sterile gray room and leaned over the console, smooth brow furrowing with programmed expression as she peered at the blinking readout. Steely blue eyes narrowed coldly at the screen.

There was no reason for a holonet communication to be beamed to the sewer tunnels outside, but that was what the sensors had detected.

No reason, unless…

………………………

Fett tensed suddenly, ramrod straight. He cut the reception immediately, but knew that it was already too late. Wasting no more time in berating himself, the bounty hunter flew into action. Ducking his head to keep from scraping it on the low ceiling of the tunnel, he ran half-bent as quickly as he could—careful to mute the noise of his footsteps.

He turned his arm so that he could reach the inside of his wrist while he ran and quickly punched buttons on the muck-covered keyboard, ignoring the slight crinkling sound of the plasticky coating he had sprayed on earlier to protect it. The door in front of him irised open slowly with only a faint grinding noise that echoed distressingly in the small tunnel. The hunter launched himself through the opening as soon as it was wide enough for him to fit. He ignored the protests of his left shoulder and right knee as they came into contact with the durasteel and rolled as he fell, rising smoothly to his feet. Fett punched another button on his gauntlet and the door immediately reversed its motion, closing behind him.

Fett crouched near the wall—careful not to touch it and risk depositing any more evidence of his passage, and waited while his sensors switched back to their highest setting now that he no longer ran the risk of being deafened by the roar of the sewage. The gunk obscuring them cut down on their effectiveness severely, but they were all he had right now. Judging that no one was in danger of stumbling either deliberately or by accident onto his position for the next few seconds, the bounty hunter pulled another antiseptic cloth from the pouch on his belt and cleaned away the muck his fall had left on the floor.

Satisfied that he had disguised his presence as much as was feasible at the moment, Fett paused only a second more to scan carefully. Against detecting no one nearby, he moved on with silent footsteps. Fett could walk menacingly when he chose to, armaments clinking ominously and steps echoing with foreboding. His reputation, after all, was another weapon he could employ, and fear was a useful tool. But he could also move silently enough to disturb only the most sensitive and highly attuned sensors. It was the latter talent that he employed, for his opponent was not one that felt fear.

That was a reaction that had never been programmed into the Human Replica Droid.

………………………

Kateel sat back and frowned at the blank screen in front of her. She knew that there had been no malfunction on her end—the day Kuat Drive Yards suffered from a glitch in such simple technology would be the day the stars ceased to shine overhead—and she doubted that there had been one on the other. She knew how fastidious, how obsessive, Boba Fett was in maintaining his tools.

And yet, she had been cut off. The call had gone through, of that she had not doubt, but the connection had been abruptly severed before it had been fully received. Kateel smiled grimly as she realized what had most likely happened. Fett had used his helmet's comm to contact her, not thinking that she would be able to trace the path back to him to re-use to get in touch with _him_ when she wanted to. The bounty hunter had likely been in a situation where there was no time to pause for a call.

Her smile broadened, slightly twisted on her thin face, as she pictured the stiff hunter suddenly getting a call on his helmet's comm unit in the midst of a battle. She knew that she wasn't lucky enough for the problem to have gotten him killed, but she wished she could have been there to see the shock on his expressionless visor. It would have been worth it to face his wrath afterwards.

The bounty hunter did not scare her.

Guri, on the other hand…Kateel frowned. She did not like being manipulated, she did not like being used, and she certainly did not like being threatened. That was why she had agreed to the blonde woman's terms at first; when Fett had called and threatened her, she had not been happy with him. But then the blonde had done the same thing, and with, Kateel thought, far less reason and far less right.

But that did not mean that she liked the bounty hunter. Just that she did _not _like the blonde. But then, Black Sun was not know for being likable. But nor were they known for forgetting a grudge.

Kateel frowned. Perhaps this broken communication had been for the best, after all. Thinking about it more calmly now, she wondered if perhaps she _had _made the right decision. The bounty hunter was only one man, after all, and he was not the sort to act solely on an old offense. A dangerous foe, yes; but perhaps it was better to stand against him than Black Sun. The criminal organization was not what it once was, but it was hardly toothless. Of course, neither was Fett.

Kateel sighed and propped her head in her hands. She almost wished that she could lose her memory again. Things had been so much simpler when she had not known herself, when she had had nothing to lose but a life she did not remember. She massaged her temples as they started to pound. Why did the past have to come back and invade her life? She did not dwell on the past, she left it alone.

Why couldn't it do the same to her?

………………………

Guri's light footfalls were detectable only to her sensitive hearing sensors. Her steely blue optical sensors scanned the floor and walls in front of her with tight precision, but she could find nothing out of place. She did not particularly wish to go into the sewer tunnels; cleaning the much off would take precious time. It seemed, however, that she had no choice in the matter. Deciding that she would risk negotiating them on her own, she chose not to go back and find the tools that would ease the endeavor. The droid that was a woman quickly stripped off her coveralls. There was no sense in ruining them.

She waited patiently for the door to open before ducking out into the spray wearing only her boots for traction. She could not see through the pouring waterfall, and stepped closer to it, within range of the semi-liquid falling past her. Instantly the thick muck coated her. She twisted her hair back, using the sticky gunk to hold it in place behind her neck. She narrowed her eyes to keep them free of as much of the muck as she could, and resigned herself to a thorough cleaning later. Somehow the foul substance had already crept underneath her nails. Careful not to slip in the thick semi-liquid, Guri stepped forward along the narrow ledge. She crouched down and stuck her hands through the muck until she could feel the hard surface of the tunnel beneath her. Clutching it tightly in her mechanical grip, she made certain that she was securely balanced before leaning forward and sticking her head into the pouring deluge, peering carefully into the sewage-filled tunnel. The muck trickled down her bare, synthetic skin a way that would have been distasteful had she been an organic. Fortunately she was not.

So much better to be properly in control of herself, without any of the silly weaknesses that plagued organics. Very few of them were worth anything. It was almost a pity that she would have to eliminate one of those that was, but that was too bad. Much as it might pain her on an aesthetic level to destroy one of the few creatures with the potential to rise above all that, it had to be done. Guri felt no sympathy for Fett. Only a slight regret that his death would lessen the cold, logical portion of the galaxy.

That was shame, but it would not stay her hand. Boba Fett still had to die.

* * *

I'm really sorry it took me so long to get this out, and I need to apologize in advance because it will likely be quite a long time in between updates for this whole thing, because I've both got school distracting me as well as other stories that have decided to be most evil and cruel and beg for attention. I know this part was short, and I'll try to get back up to a better length soon, but it's been a while since I added anything here and thought you might appreciate knowing that I really do plan to continue it… Anyway, hope you liked!


	2. Then, shortly before the events of

Chapter Two:   
_Then, shortly before the events of A New Hope…_

The explosion of light was matched by a loud _bang_, and the thugs scrambled for cover—not that it would do them much good against a thermal detonator. But a discharge this close would kill the bounty hunter too. _Was Boba Fett really _that_ crazy?_ ran the collective thought as they scattered frantically.

Fett rolled to his feet easily as his helmet's visor cleared. It had blanked out automatically to protect his vision from the flash grenade; his attackers had no such precautions. Methodically, he swiveled slowly back and forth, squeezing off a single shot from his wrist laser—he again cursed his clumsiness in getting the arm broken; the bandage was a nuisance—for each target. Despite his impairment, each shot was a smooth kill; he was gratified that his aim, at least, had not been compromised by the injury.

Behind his opaque visor, Fett frowned. He could tell from the pain signals in his arm that he was aggravating the injury; apparently the compression bandage wasn't up for such strenuous activity. He would have to see to it again when he returned to the ship. He would have to be careful not to allow it to impact his actions until then. Applying his cold will, Fett ignored the pain and continued mowing them down. _One left_, he thought to himself calmly as the last thug in front of him spun backwards with the force of the blast and hit the sands, smoking slightly. Fett slowly dropped his arms, scanning the empty roof and alley in front of him.

There was a slight scraping sound as the muzzle of a blaster scratched along the edge of his helmet. Fett stood perfectly still, using his helmet's 360 view to examine the human behind him. Scruffy, sand-stained, and just barely past the two-decade mark, he judged. From the relatively new condition of the blaster that was pressed to his helmeted chin, as well as from the fact that the creature had chosen to rather stupidly come in close when he had a ranged weapon that could easily do the job from where he stood, Fett also estimated that it was relatively inexperienced.

That guess was proved correct when it began talking. It started with an off-key _whoop_ of joy that nearly succeeded in garnering a wince from the immovable bounty hunter. Fett stood perfectly still, enduing the voice of the human as it grated on his ears.

"Would you get a load of this? Would you _get _a _load _of this! Boba Fett, greatest bounty hunter ever—ha! _Sure_ he is. So explain how I—_I_—got the drop on you? Ha _ha_, am I good or what! Whoo! You might have wasted those other losers, Fett, but I got you figured now! You really ain't that good at all! You just have us all so duped into thinking you are we—we'll shoot at an empty gun! But I got you now, bounty hunter, I got you figured bud and now, now you're all mine, your rep, your weapons, all of it—mine! The galaxy thinks you're good? It ain't seen nothin' yet! Wait'll everybody gets a load of _me_, the guy who took down Boba Fe—"

Calmly waiting while the human worked itself into enough of an ecstatic hallucination, Fett silently surveyed the area around him. Deciding that, yes, he had killed all of his potential ambushers—save the one ranting at his ear—he went into action. Lunging forward into a roll, he jerked his helmet free of the blaster muzzle pressing into it. A quick burst lit the night, but not even quick enough to do more than blow a scorched line through Fett's ragged cape. The armored material diffused most of the discharge, but he had been close enough to the weapon that a small black hole was left near the edge. It didn't matter; that would not impede the cape's function.

Rolling smoothly, Fett spun on his toes before he was fully upright, snapping around to face the human. It was lying on the sand of the alley, clutching the bloody stump of what had once been its hand. As shock finally caught up with surprise, it gave way to shrill sobs and noises that might have been curses if they could have been understood. Fett calmly wiped the blades protruding from the side of his gauntlet clean of blood before pressing it back into its concealed location. He looked down coldly at the screaming creature on the ground in front of him.

Lightning fast, he grabbed the collar of the creature's dirty tunic and lifted it one-handed. Pulling the pathetic thing in so that it's unnaturally pale face was almost touching his menacing helmet, he shook the human both to get its attention and to keep it from passing out with pain and fear.

"Who sent you?" he snarled calmly.

The human's eyes rolled back until he could see the whites more than the pupils. Giving the creature another vicious shake, he repeated the question. "Who sent you?"

"Are you going to k-k-k-kill me?" it stuttered shrilly.

"Yes," Fett replied matter of factly. "The only question here is whether you have a quick demise of a drawn out one. Tell me, and die now. Keep silent, and you will not die until I have me answers. Decide." Fett focused the full power of his often terrifying blank gaze on the creature dangling from his hand. It only took a few seconds before the trembling human had soiled itself and given up on secrets.

"Black Sun!" it gasped weakly. "Was…Black Sun! The Org…sent word! Anyone…kills Fett…big credits, big promotion…" It broke off and whimpered; somehow Fett's emotionless gaze had gone sharper. "I don't know any more!" it shrieked. "I swear it! I don't even know who it was! Honest!" Sobbing pitifully, the human dropped into incoherence.

Fett dropped the wretched thing to the sands and almost absent-mindedly fired his wrist laser, cutting short the blubbering. There was little further use in questioning it closer. Cannon fodder like this never knew anything of import.

But it had told him enough. Fett would have to finish his business quickly. He debated a moment, but decided that it was worth the risk to continue with his meeting. But he would do so promptly. There was no further need of stealth, and speed had just become vital. Black Sun knew he was on planet.

He did not have long.

But then, neither did Xizor.

* * *

_It will probably be a while before I can get the next part up, and I'm sorry. I wanted to definately get this one out before I went on Winter Break, though, due to the cliffie ending of Part II. There will be more--eventually--but I hope this helps with the wait. And thanks everyone for sticking with this story, despite how horrendously slow the updates have been--and unfortunately are likely to be--it means a lot. May the Force be with you--or at least enough credits to hire Fett. Methinks the second one sounds a better prospect, anyway... _


	3. Now, fourteen years after the events of

_In honor of me needing something with which to escape from the mushy nausea Valentine's Day introduces in the unromantic cynic which I am, I give you not one, but two new chapters of Boba Fett heartless goodness. Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. Enjoy. ;)_

* * *

**Chapter Three:  
_Now, fourteen years after Return of the Jedi…_**

Guri scanned the tunnel carefully, her optical sensors gazing through the plummeting muck and analyzing minutely. She could detect nothing amiss, but these conditions were not ones in which such things were easily seen. That had been a deliberate safety measure to keep the location and existence of the hideout secure. However, there had always been the slim chance of it proving as problematic security-wise for those within as without, and while such a risk had been deemed acceptable it was, at the moment, an annoying fact.

Guri could not tell if someone had been here. All she knew was that there had been a blip on one of her sensors, but she had not had enough of them online to tell precisely what. Hence her foray into the sludge-filled sewers for a personal examination. However, it had proved useless, for she could detect nothing. The sludge was constantly pouring thickly enough to wipe away all traces of passage, even should an entire detachment of stormtroopers—or New Republic Security Forces, now—have chosen to march down the sewer tunnels.

Guri's icy eyes narrowed. She had run into a mystery, and she did not like mysteries. While the anomaly was small enough to normally be dismissed, this was not a normal situation. Guri was not dealing with just anyone; she was dealing with Boba Fett.

And when dealing with Fett, every factor no matter how minute had to be properly accounted and prepared for. The blip on her computer screen had been nothing more than a hiccough of data…but it could well be all the warning that she was going to get.

Perhaps it meant nothing, but Guri was not known for being reckless, and especially not foolish. Nor are droids known for being intuitive, but Guri was no normal droid. She had learned to trust her instincts, programmed though they might be. The Human Replica Droid carefully leaned back out of the muck-fall and stood up. She futilely scanned once more, but the dim, sludge-filled tunnels held no answers for her. Guri turned away and stalked back to the sealed door.

Perhaps it meant nothing, but Guri would not count on that. She needed to prepare. There was no evidence, no data to suggest it, but she was certain.

Boba Fett knew she was here.

…………..

Boba Fett silently cursed himself repeatedly for a fool. He should have known that, with their emphasis on technology, Kuat Drive Yards would have both the equipment and the wherewithal to trace back along the line of communication he had opened with Kateel of Kuat. And of course, the woman would have had the smarts and gumption to do such a thing. Fett did not know why she had attempted to contact him over his helmet's comm; he could only hope that the lapse in his judgement would not prove fatal.

He was sitting in the middle of the _Slave_'s holding bay, meticulously cleaning ever molecule from his armor and weaponry. Granted, the ship was in a secure and secret location, but it still had Fett's nerves on full alert to be on planet and un-armored. The coarse coverall he was wearing offered no protection. He felt naked without his armor, without his helmet. Blind, deaf, and helpless…that was how he felt right now.

And with Guri possibly even now attempting to track him down, it was a bad time to feel that way.

But the armor needed to be cleaned. He was not going to put off such an essential task because of a few nerves that he had not managed to eliminate with his will. He might be worried, but he would not allow that to interfere. He never had. Often when one was most anxious was when one needed most to appear perfectly in control—to _be _perfectly in control. The pretense of calmness was as important a skill to employ as that of marksmanship or agility.

Fett's reputation was as much a weapon as his rocket launcher or blaster rifle. And that reputation was of an utterly unflappable hunter—no matter what sort of situation he was in, Boba Fett was _always _in control.

Even if that situation involved sitting in the middle of his ship wearing nothing but a thin pair of coveralls while he painstakingly removed ever atom of muck from the delicate sensors of his helmet.

Setting down the small hair-tool that he had been using to suck out the last few stubborn drops of the foul semi-liquid from his visor's edges, Fett picked up an antiseptic-coated cloth and thoroughly wiped the helmet down. Inspecting it carefully, the bounty hunter decided that it was finally clean.

Fett lifted the cold visor and settled it over his head. He flicked the systems back on and watched as the readouts and numbers flashed up on the screen before his eyes. His vision was suddenly far better than it had been only a moment ago as the sensors rebooted themselves. He could hear again, even the minute rumble of the ship's computer humming behind the durasteel plating. The bounty hunter inhaled deeply; even the _Slave's _air tasted ever so slightly off without his helmet. Things were finally back to normal.

Boba Fett had his face again.


	4. Then, shortly before the events of

Chapter Four:  
_Then, shortly before the events of A New Hope…_

The music suddenly went dead, ending with a faltering whine as the last Bith gasped into its instrument. The entire cantina froze and turned slowly towards the door. Then they quite quickly looked away from the menacing figure framed by the night that stood calmly in the entrance. Sand and blood stained the figure, and smoke whispered from a recent burn-hole in its ragged cape. Obviously it had just been accosted by Tatooine's streets, and ought to now be easy pickings for whatever predator chose to finish it off…

But no one would think such a thing of _this _figure. Not of Boba Fett.

The cantina was dead silent as he stalked through it towards the bar. Everyone was very carefully not looking at Fett, not wanting to catch the hunter's visored eye. Yet every single creature in the cantina was utterly focused on his presence, completely aware of his every move. They were watching him carefully while carefully looking the other way. They were frightened.

Fett ignored them all. He marched to the bar where the slobbish, stained figure of the disfigured human who owned the decrepit watering hole cowered while trying to appear calm. It failed; the reek of its fear-sweat reached Fett's nostrils even through the filter of his helmet. He glared through his opaque visor and speared the creature with his gaze.

Wuher, jowls quivering, nodded and pointed with a trembling hand towards the back of the bar. Fett nodded curtly and placed a coin on the bar as he followed the bartender's gesture. There was a Gotal in the back booth entwined with a blue Twi'lek and a purple-haired human. Fett leveled his cold glare on them. "Move" he said harshly. The girls leapt up and, casting a few wide-eyed glances behind them, scurried away. Fett slid into the booth across from the Gotal. The furred creature was as expressionless as ever; being telepathic among their own species, they had no need for facial expressions. It was one of the few things that Fett could appreciate about the creatures. On the whole, he found them to be _too _empathic, easily sympathizing with creatures undeserving of consideration. However, they were insightful creatures, and if one could form a proper relationship they made good spies.

Such as this one. Fett held out a gloved hand and the Gotal quickly dug into its jacket pouches. A small tube was quickly placed in his open palm. Fett slipped it carefully into one of his belt pouches and handed the Gotal a small bag. The Gotal jiggled it just enough to hear it clink once, then put the money away. It trusted that Fett would not cheat it; as long as the bounty hunter continued to have need of its services there was no point in such stupidity. And if Fett ever wanted to fire the creature—well, that's what blasters were for.

The bounty hunter nodded, and the Gotal responded in kind. Then Fett stood and, just as calmly, walked back out of the cantina. He could feel the carefully turned-away stares following him out the door. He ignored them. Those were not the creatures whose attention he needed to watch out for.

But they would be coming soon, he was certain.

…………

Bossk grinned. Sometimes, life was wonderful. The Trandoshan fingered his large blaster rifle lovingly as he peered around the corner of the dusty alleyway. Behind him, he could hear the muffled sounds of other creatures checking their own weapons and adjusting their armaments. He almost had a small army behind him, and they would all be taking his orders when the conflict started.

Although Bossk personally preferred the term "hunt."

The Trandoshan was practically salivating at the thought of the particular target. When Black Sun had called and asked if he was interested, Bossk had been hard-pressed not to leap up and howl at the chance. He had a niggling feeling that he could have negotiated a much higher price for this kill, but right now the bounty hunter didn't care. He would have shot _this _barve for free. It was just a side benefit that he was getting paid at all; did it really matter how high the rate was?

A cold, calculating part of Bossk's mind said, yes, it always mattered what the price was. But that was a very small part of his mind, easily swamped under the hunter's eagerness at the thought of finally getting his sights upon his most hated enemy: Boba Fett.

He couldn't believe his luck. He had been just getting ready to leave Tatooine, having taken care of his business with Jabba a few hours ago, when his comlink had buzzed and a cool voice had informed him that there was a certain bounty hunter on planet that certain factions of Black Sun wanted removed from the gameboard. Bossk had just grinned. _So_, he thought to himself, _the bastard finally upset the wrong people. _He had been wondering how it hadn't happened sooner. Fett _infuriated _him, how could others deal with the armored hunter without feeling that familiar desire to rip his helmeted head off and tear out his throat?

But at last, he was getting his chance. At last, someone else had recognized the need for Fett to die. And at last, the bounty hunter had walked right into Bossk's clutches. The stupid, overconfident fool had made it out of Black Sun's first ambush—hence their call to Bossk—and then made the mistake of showing his visored excuse for a face in the most frequented cantina in all of Mos Eisley. Word had spread quickly, and it hadn't been hard at all to set up a second ambush…this time with Bossk in charge. The flunkies and hit men behind him were all going to be following his orders while he took on—and took out—Boba Fett.

Bossk's toothy grin widened, showing every one of his fangs. Some days, life was good…

The Twi'lek next to him whispered, "we have visual confirmation, boss." Bossk's fingers curled a little tighter around his gun. He would have loved to have leapt out and ripped Fett apart with his claws, but he knew better than to think that he could jump the hunter physically without getting blasted. Maybe he would get lucky, though, and his first shot wouldn't _quite _kill Fett… Bossk licked his scaly lips. The way his luck looked today, it just might be possible…

"He's almost in position," the Twi'lek breathed. Bossk's muscles tensed and his smile felt like it was about to split his face. It was almost here…he could almost taste Fett's blood on his tongue… A feeling welled up in Bossk's reptilian heart that in another creature might have been mistaken for love. It felt like a warm glow running through his cold blood. The Trandoshan recognized it for murderous rage and long-denied retribution.

The Twi'lek nodded sharply and Bossk threw himself around the street corner as he shouted a command for the others to attack. He squeezed off a row of glowing laser blasts that cut like fingers of shiny blood across the street…

The _empty _street.

Bossk's gun fell from suddenly nerveless fingers and his fanged mouth gaped open. There was no sign of the bounty hunter at all, no evidence that he had ever been there. The Trandoshan stared, almost feeling tears well up in his eyes. It wasn't fair; Boba Fett was supposed to be dead right now.

It just wasn't fair!

…………

As the _Slave I _hurtled through the cool black void of space, Fett slipped a small tube from his belt pouch and inserted it into the appropriate slot in the ship's computer. It would take a few time parts to decode the information. He entered the coordinates for a hyperspace jump; hyperspace was the only truly safe place for a bounty hunter. Anywhere else you were perpetually open to attack and had to be constantly on guard. But that was all right; he knew no other way to be. A life without eternal vigilance was a foreign concept to the last of the Mandalorians; it would be like a life without life. Of course, live without such awareness and soon it would be a life without life. You'd be dead.

The _Slave _slammed into hyperspace and Fett relaxed marginally in the empty silence. He stretched his left arm and decided that the bones had not shifted; they just needed to rest while the compression bandage reformed back to its earlier tightness.

Fett leaned back in the pilot's chair and closed his eyes. Deciding to awake in two standard time parts, the hunter fell into the oblivion that is dreamless sleep. Dreams were for those with regrets or confusion.

Boba Fett suffered from neither.


End file.
